True love travels on a gravel road
by panyasan
Summary: A Valentine story about gravel roads, friendship and love, music, food, travel and the road home. Inspired by the episodes Bounty, Home and Bound.
1. Prologue : Dream food

Prologue : Dream food

Summary: A Valentine story about gravel roads, friendship and love, music, food, travel and the road home. Inspired by the episodes _Bounty, Home and Bound_.

**A/N** This story is a response to a Valentine challenge to write a story based on the inspiration from a song. My song was _Looking for Reason_ from Little Big Town. The lyrics in this prologue are from that song. The title of this story is from a song by Elvis, who will make an appearance. This chapter takes place after the episode Bounty (season 2). Thanks to my wonderful beta Artisticmom2.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

He was happy. He was driving, his hands lightly on the steering wheel, sunlight on his face, and the wind in his hair. Red and yellow valleys passed by under a bright blue sky. He felt the gravel of the road spitting away under his car, a country travel song playing on the car's music player. The beat of the song was in sync with the tires rotating on this road, the rhythm accompanied him on his travel. Clear, [above the music, [were the voices of the female singers singing a song of love lost or found.

_Lookin' for to make some sense out of nothin'_

_Lookin' for the hunger to hang on_

_Lookin' for to know if you're really worth it_

_Lookin' for a reason not to be gone_

Soon he would leave Earth behind him, but for now this was his home, his planet. He breathed. He lived. He drove. It was all what he needed.

The sun slowly set. It was time to find the nearest motel and call it a day. At that moment he saw about three miles in front of him a car, stranded next the road. The hood was open and a figure stood next to it. When he came closer, he saw that the bystander was female. She was staring at the engine of her car, but when she heard his car, she pulled her head out from under the hood and looked around. She had a green shawl bound around her head, the end of it softly blowing in the wind. She wore a green summer dress with white flowers. Her outfit was matched by her elegant white shoes with a small heel. He slowed down, stopped, and stepped out of the car.

"Can I help you, ma'am," he asked. She was petite and she had an exquisite face, with short hair, two big brown eyes with a spark of green and red lips. He never had seen such a beauty.

"A row of the sun collectors relays is malfunctioning," she answered. Her voice was warm. For some reason it pleased him she had some engineering knowledge.

"Can I have a look?" he smiled at her. "I'm an engineer and familiar with this technology."

She let him and together they looked under the hood of the car. Her face was so close by; he could smell her spicy, honey-like scent. "I think this is the cause of the problem," she explained. She pointed at the row.

He examined it and agreed with her. "Yes, it is. See the burn marks? You need a whole new set of relays," he said. He moved away from the hood and she followed suit. "If I'm correct, there's motel and garage about 30 miles from here. I could take you there," he offered. She stared at him and gave no response. He quickly added that it wasn't a problem for him. "Besides, you can't stay here on the side of the road, it's getting dark soon."

"Then I will take you up on your offer," she replied.

She was standing so close, he could almost touch her. He felt the desire to reach out, just to lay his hand on hers and feel her soft skin. He rebuked himself for his stupid thoughts. The shawl around her head had gone lose. The end of her right ear was visible. It was pointy. He felt like the earth just opened and he was falling into a big gap. This woman was Vulcan.

He pulled himself together, mentally kicking himself and told her "I'll tow you to that garage and you can get your car fixed. If my information is correct, there's also a restaurant and motel. So you can have a meal and some rest, if you want to." He held out a hand. "I am Charles Tucker, by the way. Friends call me Trip."

He got this strange feeling he had been in a similar situation and that she would refuse his hand. Instead she answered "TPol," shaking his hand. Her skin felt warm.

He pulled his car up in front of hers, attached the cable and drove to the motel. There he left T'Pol to handle her affairs. He saw her later on, at the motel diner, sitting alone. She was fully focused on her food and she ate with her hands. She shoved the food in her mouth, like a starving man. It was just a strange sight, but he couldn't take his eyes of her. It was like time had stopped. Then she looked up. Their eyes locked. T'Pol stared at him, he was overcome by the desire he saw in her eyes like she was filled with a deep longing that only he could fill, like she wanted to savor him...

The alarm shrieked through the night. He woke up. He stared around in the darkness of his cabin. This was his reality. It had only been a dream.


	2. Chapter one: Breakfast coffee

Chapter one: Breakfast coffee

A/N This chapter takes place after the episode Bounty (Season 2).

Disclaimer: see prologue.

* * *

He was cranky. Not a little, he was in a totally bad mood. Everything in his life seemed wrong, for no reason at all. He had a happy life, a great job, and new adventures on every corner of the galaxy. Yet as he sat and sipped at his morning coffee he realized that everything tasted awful. He stared at his plate with his usual breakfast and lost all appetite. He hated his life. The coming days seemed like a black hole.

It couldn't have been that vivid dream about meeting T'Pol in the desert, looking at him, like she had when she was in decon with some bug she had caught. It had been a weird dream, but that look she had given him when he brought the food, the way she had snatched the plate and started to eat it... Now that's weird. It had made him feel like she desired him. He snorted. That would be the day.

"Can I join you, Commander," the perky sound of Hoshi's voice asked. He looked up and saw her taking a seat without waiting for an answer. She started chatting about this new project which would make the communication between the bridge and the rest of the ship much better, a project both of them had been working on. For a communication specialist she didn't seem to pick up his bad mood nor seemed to be intimidated by his short replies.

The door opened and before he even looked up, he knew T'Pol was going to be there. T'Pol glanced quickly in his direction, before collecting her breakfast and finding herself a table. She was sitting alone. She looked horrible. Her complexion was flushed; her body was rigid, her expression almost frozen. But those brown eyes. The spark was missing and she looked... Spooked was the right word.

Hoshi followed his look and said to him "The sub-commander doesn't look well. The flu must really have gotten to her."

"Not that she would ever tell," he answered. He heard the slight bitter tone in his voice. Hoshi gave him a curious look. "I mean, Vulcans are supposed to keep their emotions controlled, so you would never know what is going on in their lives."

"I agree that Vulcans don't go around telling about their feelings, Commander," Hoshi responded, "but I always felt that T'Pol is much easier to read then any of the Vulcan I met."

"I didn't know you met so many Vulcan before," Trip said, "And how do you read them?''

"About sixty percent of our communication is by body language, Commander," Hoshi answered. "That body language is the same in every Human. We blush or turn white, our eyes widened and we press our lips, our shoulders drop, we touch our hair, all that signs tell you more how somebody feels that by what they are saying. It's easy to speak with words, but very hard to control your body. Your body language doesn't lie."

"And that goes the same with Vulcans or other aliens?''

"Their body language is somewhat different and they have a much more control when it comes to facial expressions, but it's there. You can see it in very subtle signs," Hoshi continued. She glanced at T'Pol. "Right now, T'Pol feels very uncomfortable. It's not her usual loneliness, it's more."

"You think she is lonely?" he asked, wondering why he didn't see that.

"She isolated herself from the crew and she's the only Vulcan among Humans. T'Pol used to have breakfast with others, but not anymore." She gave him a quick glance that didn't go noticed by him. He and T'Pol used to have breakfast together, but that was a long time ago. "Maybe I am the only one who sees it," Hoshi added. "I was raised in culture in which body language plays a great part, and languages are my field of expertise. That includes body languages."

Trip smiled at her. "I wish I had some of your talents. Languages always have been my weak point. Better start working on my engines," he concluded. The strange thing was, while he may be no expert in body language, there were times that he could read T'Pol's. It spoke louder to him than her words.

He took his tray, placed it on the tray-holder, and saw T'Pol leave the mess hall. She had hardly eaten a thing. He continued on his way and while he tried to distract himself by working, his mood didn't improve. Only late that night, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he came to realize what it was.

When he had first met T'Pol he hadn't thought much of her. But in their first year, he came to enjoy their little bantering, their talks about ships business and engineering projects. She was the number two on the ship, he, number three, and when it was necessary somehow they teamed up. She came to him with questions about odd human behavior. She sometimes joined him for breakfast, as he would with her. He could rely on her and she on him. When the captain was more worried about his dog than about the plasma injectors and he needed to keep the ship running, T'Pol volunteered to talk to the captain. But when the captain was depressed about the disaster at the Paraagan home world, they both felt the captain needed a friend more than his XO. In that first year a strange sort of friendship, a trust, was built between them.

Trip tossed and turned, before he lay on his back again. Maybe that's why T'Pol went on that secret mission with the captain a couple months ago and he felt betrayed. Trip blamed T'Pol more than the captain. He felt bad not knowing where they were or what they were doing. What if something happened to them or the ship? He hated being left in the dark and thought the whole mission was irresponsible.

When Jon came back, it didn't change his relationship with him. It did with T'Pol. He felt she didn't trust him enough to inform him about this mission. He knew that this feeling of being mistrusted had allowed him to create distance between him and T'Pol. He left her on her own as she had him. He even had a fling on the way. T'Pol didn't seem to like his distance and if she hadn't been Vulcan he would have said she felt hurt. Later on, she pulled back from him. He tried to rebuild some of their old relationship, but it had never been the same. The old friendship and trust were gone.

And there was nothing he could do about it. She hadn't given him any reasons to believe they could be good friends again. It didn't matter. He had plenty of friends and people to talk to.

He closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep and get this day over.

But at night he dreamt he was back in the motel. He shared a meal with this lovely lady called T'Pol and they talked like old friends for hours. This was before they ended up kissing and he could taste her soft, sweet lips on his and before the alarm brought him once again back to reality.


	3. Chapter two: Pizza for lunch

**Chapter Two: Pizza for Lunch**

A/N: This chapter takes place around the episode North Star (season 3)

Disclaimer: see prologue

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He was relaxed. T'Pol's hands were on his back, putting pressure on all the right places. The tension in Trip's body was flowing away. He was with a friend and she made him feel better.

He needed this. His life had become so much harder. Every day he felt the anger in his veins and the grief over the loss of his sister dragging him down. And then there was this mission, the most important one of his life, vital to the survival of Earth.

The moment he walked into T'Pol's cabin, with the smell of the lit candles and the figure of T'Pol to be seen in the light, he could leave the worries of the day behind. Her eyes would look up to him, waiting for their neuropressure session. She never would admit it, but her face welcomed him. It felt like coming home.

When Phlox had suggested the idea, he had felt uncomfortable with the thought of having neuropressure with T'Pol. He didn't want to be close to T'Pol, but alone with his pain. First, he had started to make up excuses to skip their sessions.

But T'Pol never asked about his loss. She just was there and her hands helped him when they moved over his body, putting pressure on the right nodes and making him feel relaxed. They talked about their jobs, the mission, their education, new developments in science and engineering. After a while their conversation had led to their lives and their family. T'Pol opened up to him by talking about her father.

Strangely enough, he never spoke of his sister. He felt as if he didn't have to say to T'Pol how much he missed Lizzie; and even if he had, he knew that T'Pol would be looking at him with those compassionate eyes and emotions would overwhelm him, feelings for Lizzie and T'Pol that he wanted to keep to himself.

Because it wasn't just their old, strange friendship and the mutual trust they had shared that had resurfaced. There was more. In moments like these they were just T'Pol and Trip. He saw the real TPol, deep down under that closed face. It made him like her even more.

If that wasn't enough, he could feel a strange tension between them. It was a thrilling sensation. He was probably the only one who noticed it and saw it for what it was: attraction. He had grown attracted to her. Better said, he'd finally acknowledged that he was attracted to her. She had never given any reason for him to think that she returned any of those feelings, so he kept it to himself.

TPol's hands stopped. He breathed out and turned to her. She looked tired. "It's my turn," he said.

She simply went to the side of her bunk, turning her back to him. He took his seat behind her. He placed his hands on her back. He leaned forward. "Breathe," he teased her as he began.

"I always breathe properly," she responded, but he could hear amusement in her voice.

He continued applying pressure to the nodes on her back in a comfortable silence. The silence was broken by a rumbling sound, coming from her stomach.

"I apologize," she said, but he only laughed. Never had he expected to hear a Vulcan with a rumbling stomach. "I didn't have lunch, and I was too late for dinner," she explained.

"You should eat regularly," he said and added in a teasing tone "It's only logical." He moved his hands away from her back. "It's a shame you missed lunch," he told her. "Chef had made some excellent pizza, also a vegetarian kind. I'll get you some."

She looked at him, her eyes showing puzzlement and amusement at the same time. Then she nodded slowly. "If you don't mind, please bring some cutlery with you as well."

"Pizza should be eaten with your hands," he joked, "It makes the pizza taste much better."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow in disagreement and he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, one vegetarian pizza with knife and fork coming up."

He walked to the mess hall to find some left over pizzas, heated them in the oven, put them on a tray together with a salad and some drinks and returned to T'Pol's quarters.

There they sat around a small table that T'Pol had moved to the middle of her cabin and, surrounded by the burning candles and still in their leisure outfits, they shared a belated lunch together. He ate the pizza with his hands, while T'Pol carefully cut her pizza in pieces and put them in her mouth with a fork. It amused him to see her eat with small precise bites.

After their very late lunch, they continued their session. While his hand touched her soft skin, he said "I always wondered why Vulcans don't eat with their hands."

"It's considered unhygienic."

"You ate those peaches I gave you, and I've seen you eating popcorn with your hands."

"I was told that was part of the ritual of watching a movie," she explained. "I simply followed a ritual from Earth."

He wanted to say that eating pizza with your hands was a ritual as well, but then another, more colored memory of a year ago came to mind, an image that sometimes still troubled his thoughts. "I also saw you eat with your hands in decon. I brought you some food and you shoved it in your mouth. With your hands. You must have been really hungry."

"When was this?'' she said, surprised.

It seemed such a long time ago. He pressed one of her lower nodes on her back and explained. "Last year. You returned from the surface to _Enterprise_ and got some bug. Phlox had you locked up in decon because you developed a flu. When you got better, you still didn't look well. Must have been some nasty virus."

When he said the word "virus" he could feel her body tensing up underneath his hands. She took a deep breath. "I see," she said.

She kept on staring in front of her, her back turned to him, but her whole body screamed of discomfort. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"There is nothing wrong, Commander,"" she answered in a cold voice. Her body became more rigid. "Please continue."

"Of course there is. But feel free not to tell me," he said shortly. He stepped away from her bunk. "I gotta go, I've lots of things to do."

He got up and pulled his shirt on. She turned to him. Her face was closed. "Are there problems in Engineering?" she asked.

He muttered an answer and walked to the door. She went with him. When he was about to leave and step out the door, she told him. "I don't remember much about my time in decon when I had the flu. Some parts are missing."

"Maybe there's not much to tell," he replied. "With the flu things get a bit hazy. Most of the time you're feeling really bad and sleep."

TPol's cheeks turned a little darker. "The illness made me act irrationally, as if someone else had taken control." She paused. "What I do remember is that my actions were undignified."

He just stared at her. Undignified? What did she mean?

"I would like to know if I acted inappropriately," she explained further, her voice in control. "I didn't find physical evidence, and Doctor Phlox doesn't want to talk about it."

He stepped back into her cabin and closed the door. Meanwhile his mind was reeling. Undignified? Inappropriate? Physical evidence? Phlox? Suddenly he remembered her looking at him almost like an animal in heat when he brought her the food. Images of T'Pol and Phlox entered his mind that he had to work very hard to stop. He wanted to erase them from his memory. Just the thought of those two together in that way was too disturbing. T'Pol definitely didn't want anything beyond friendship with Phlox. No wonder she was upset. "Did you ask Phlox about it?" he managed to say.

"He said that Denobulan males don't talk about it." Now she sounded frustrated.

Trip had some experience with the Denobulan doctor himself. Phlox didn't shy away from certain topics that others thought were private. If he was unwilling to talk, wouldn't that mean something did happen in decon? What a mess. She hadn't been herself. If Phlox had allowed T'Pol to act undignified, as she called it, he had definitely been in the wrong, both as her doctor and as her fellow officer.

Trip did the only thing he could do as a friend. "Do you want to me to ask him?" he offered.

TPol's face didn't show any emotion, but she seemed to have reached a conclusion. "The best course of action is that I speak again with Doctor Phlox myself."

"Do it now. The best way is to get it out in the open as soon as possible." Not to mention it would help him get the images of T'Pol and Phlox together out of his mind. The sooner he knew the truth, the better.

T'Pol nodded, and without a word she went into her bathroom to change into her ordinary uniform and left, leaving him alone in her cabin.

It was strange to be here without T'Pol. The room still smelled like T'Pol: a mixture of spices and honey, combined with the smell of the wax of the candles. He took a seat on one of her pillows on the floor and looked around. He studied the artifacts on her wall and remembered what she'd told him about them. The last few minutes had been an emotional roller coaster and he felt tired. So he lay down and placed his head on one of the pillows. Trip was only going to shut his eyes for a minute, and would be up before T'Pol's return.

A sound next to him woke him, and he realized he had dozed off. T'Pol had returned.

"T'Pol," he said, trying to sit up.

"You fell asleep," she concluded.

Looking up to her, he gave her a smile. "Sorry about that."

She didn't seem to mind, but seated herself next to him. "Maybe you should go." Her voice was warm.

"Yeah," he answered. Her face was close by. Never had he seen a more beautiful face. Her hazel eyes looked at him and her expression was more relaxed than before she'd left.

"How did it go with Phlox?" he asked.

"We had a good conversation," she told him.

"And?'' he asked with some urgency. She had to give him more than this.

T'Pol straightened her back. "Apparently, I attempted to attack Phlox, and when he restrained me I started to pull out my hair, bang my head against the wall, and scream in Vulcan. I struck him twice before he was able to sedate me. He said it was the first time any female had been able to knock him down. He thought I would be embarrassed by my lack of control."

"Are you?" he asked. It was out of his mouth before he knew it. He expected her to give a Vulcan speech about embarrassment being a mere emotion, but she didn't.

"I can better handle the facts when I am not forced to speculate," she answered, sounding relieved.

He nodded. "Me, too." He smiled at her. "It does remind me to not get into a fight with you," he smiled at her, "but I am glad nothing else went on." He stood up. "I'd better be going."

Again she walked him to the door, but both of them were in a much better mood. "Good night, Commander." She hesitated and added, "Thank you."

He was about to say something along the lines of "that's what friends are for" and "don't mention it". Instead he smiled and said just before he left her quarters, "Sweet dreams, T'Pol."


	4. Chapter three: A Vulcan dinner

**Chapter Three: A Vulcan Dinner**

A/N: This story is inspired by the song _Looking for Reason_ from Little Big Town, a song that fitted so well with the episode _Bound_. The lyrics in this chapter are from that song.

The first part of this chapter is around the episode _Home_ and the second part around _Bound_. Certain dialogue is from _Bound_, an episode written by Manny Coto. Special thanks to Alelou. Some elements in this chapter were inspired by her story _Missing Scenes of Season Four._

The prologue and chapter 1 were set in season 2, chapter 2 in season 3 and this chapter is set in season 4. Look out for bumps in the road!

Disclaimer: see prologue.

* * *

He only wanted her to be happy. And while Trip still had a hard time reading her emotions, she was. TPol was content in her own special, unique Vulcan way. So he was happy, too. He saw it in the way she woke him up in the morning, her voice soft and almost playful, the way she looked at him, walking around in their shared cabin when she thought he wasn't looking.

They were on the road together, heading to Vulcan. T'Pol had invited him to meet her mother on Vulcan. They were spending all their time together on this passenger ship which was bringing them from Earth to Vulcan, a nine day trip. He was enjoyed every minute of it.

And he knew T'Pol was too.

The Vulcan ship had a higher gravity than Human ships, which made it hard for him to walk around. It had a bridge, an engineering room, and cabins for the passengers, a mess hall and several community rooms. Those rooms were very interesting; they had Vulcan games, a place for workshops and a meditation area. Their cabin was small and decorated with two separated bunk beds, pillows and candles for meditation, and a small table. It also contained two closets: one for clothes and another, smaller closet which concealed a communication device. It made it possible to listen to Vulcan music and watch Vulcan news programs, documentaries and dramas, all of them plain boring. A bathroom with a small wash basin and shower was attached to the cabin. The first time Trip had wanted to take a shower, he had discovered it worked on a timer. Not more than three minutes water a day was allowed, due to water preservation.

But even with the problems he had with the gravity, the awkward stares of his fellow travelers, the lack of long hot showers, the small size of the room and the lack of good entertainment, he was loving this trip. The cabin was his favorite place on board, although he wouldn't have missed his visit to the engineering room on this Vulcan ship.

Trip was lying on the bunk bed reading a book while T'Pol sat in the middle of the room on a pillow, staring at the flame of the candle in front of her. He never grew tired of seeing her sitting there in meditation, the light of the candle reflected on her face.

TPol opened her eyes and looked at him. "Shall we have dinner in our cabin? I could pick up a few dishes from the dining hall," she asked. He agreed. The prospect of being alone with her and having a meal was far more appealing than sitting in the mess hall, trying to eat while feeling the eyes of every one pricking in his back.

He stretched out and when T'Pol passed by and stopped her by taking hold of her hand, pulling her close. His arms went around her. He felt her soft, warm body under his fingers and breathed in her lovely smell. T'Pol kissed him, a soft tender kiss. He eagerly returned it and deepened the kiss. He always felt proud when this woman opened herself to him like a flower, revealing her heart, He felt her passion unfold when they kissed.

"You're my mate," she whispered.

Trip chuckled. "I think you used the wrong word. I'm a civilized man, not a monkey. Mate sounds a bit weird." He leaned towards her and kissed her quickly. "Not that I don't love your kisses."

T'Pol frowned ever so slightly and moved away from him. "I had better be on my way to get dinner," she said.

He brushed her cheek with his two fingers. It was a gesture T'Pol had made towards him several times before. "That would be great."

She got up, dressed herself in one of her robes, and kissed him quickly, her soft lips on his, before she left. "I will be right back," T'Pol said and before he could suggest his help she was gone. TPol came back after 15 minutes with a trolley holding a dinner tray. She took the large cover off the tray, revealing all kinds of small bowls. He saw an orange colored dish that looked like rice, a brownish noodle dish, a purple colored soup, and several vegetables and fruits in red, pink, yellow, blue, and green.

"I brought several dishes from different Vulcan provinces for you to try," she explained. "A couple of them are spicier. I thought you may find them more tasteful than the other dishes you have eaten in the past few days."

"Thanks," he said. "I thought most dishes needed some pepper. Lots of pepper."

T'Pol placed the food on the table and started naming the dishes and mentioning their ingredients, half of which he'd never heard of. But he tried all of the dishes and most of them tasted good. "I never see you eat this kind of Vulcan food on _Enterprise_," he commented.

T'Pol nodded. "Chef is somewhat unfamiliar with Vulcan cuisine."

That was the understatement of the year. Her diet on _Enterprise _was comprised mostly of carrots and celery served raw, a couple of other vegetables, various vegetarian pasta, rice and bean dishes, and vegetarian pizza. With the exception of plomeek soup once a year, Chef never served any Vulcan dishes. Trip decided he would buy a Vulcan cook book in English for the chef. It would cost him some disapproval. Chef didn't like any suggestions about his cooking, but it was worth the try.

Their conversation turned from Vulcan cuisine to Vulcan games. That afternoon Trip had made a visit to the ship's game room and had become intrigued by several of them.

"Vulcans like these kinds of games. They stimulate the process of thinking and analyzing, and help you to test your level of knowledge in several topics, or improve them," T'Pol explained. "I think Human games work the same way."

"Have you ever tried a Human game?" he asked.

"I have taken a chess course, and according to Ensign Sato I would make a great poker player," TPol told him.

Trip busted out in laughter. "I would teach you poker if I could find some cards in this place."

"That's unlikely."

"There is another game that we can play with no cards. It's called 20 Questions."

TPol looked intrigued. "What are the rules of this game?"

"They are simple. I ask a question and you ask the same question back. That's it. So let's say I asked you 'What's your favorite movie?' and you say..."

"_The Bride of Frankenstein._"

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"What's yours?'' she asked.

"_The Matrix_ and _Twelve Monkeys_. But I can give you a whole list of movies that you have to see. Next question: what's your favorite vacation?"

T'Pol thought for a moment. "I enjoyed a journey I made with my father to a distant clan member. He lived in a very remote, but beautiful, part of Vulcan. I also would add this time on my list."

He smiled, glad she was so clearly enjoying their time together. "Must be the company."

"Not to mention the travel accommodations," she replied with a teasing voice, looking around at their small quarters.

He chuckled. "It isn't bad. I wished we had longer showers. I could adjust that timer to improve the accommodations. Piece of cake."

"That is a tempting proposal. But it would be detected within seconds and the fines are exorbitant," T'Pol answered. "What is your favorite vacation, Trip?"

As always, when she used his nickname so casually it made his heart skip a little. "This trip is on top of my list," he said quickly, "But my second favorite would be a vacation I took on a break from college. I travelled by car through several states, going from motel to motel. I was headed toward a visit with a good friend of mine, but the travel in itself was great. I met so many great people on the road; every day was different, just driving, seeing the natural wonders around me, and feeling free to drive or stop wherever I wanted."

He looked at T'Pol, before he added "In our second year on _Enterprise_ I dreamt I travelled that same route and met you on the road. In my dream you were an unknown woman, stranded with your car. I helped you. It was in the middle of the desert and I towed your car to the next motel. It was a fun ride."

Her eyebrow went up in small amusement. "You picked up a perfect stranger in the middle of nowhere? When I arrived on Earth, they warned me against doing this, because it could end badly. In fact, I have seen several movies that would indicate as much."

"Which ones?" he asked and before he knew it he was involved in a discussion about movies. He made a promise to himself to reinstate movie night on _Enterprise_ and make sure that hitchhiker slasher films were not on the list.

Later that night he was sitting before the small screen of the communication device watching the equivalent of a Human movie: a Vulcan drama in dance. Vulcans were dancing in clipped motions to weird sounding music. The dialogue was in a language he didn't understand. The pace was infuriating slow.

Trip couldn't have cared less. He was sitting with T'Pol cradled in his arms, his back against the bulkhead; he could have stayed there forever. Never had he been so downright happy.

**Nine months later **

He wanted her to be happy. That was the only thing he'd wanted. But now they were both miserable beyond measure. Trip had expected some bumps along the way, like that old song said "True love travels on a gravel road." But he hadn't seen the holes in the road ahead.

She had taken him to Vulcan to meet her mother. He'd figured that had to mean something. Instead, she'd married the other guy. It killed him to think about that moment.

He had wanted to be supportive. He knew that T'Pol had done this for her mother. He'd decided that he'd just be her friend. T'Pol had married Koss, and she was off limits. After she'd returned to _Enterprise_, he had tried to stick to his decision. It was hard. Her desperate pretense that they had never been more than friends just didn't work. He'd explained this to her. He'd told her to leave him alone.

And that was exactly what she had done.

And when Koss released her from their sham marriage, the union only by name, and it was annulled, she left him again and ran off to read a book.

Trip had said he understood. He did. Her mother, with whom she had a difficult relationship, had just died. Everything she was taught to believe had changed. There hadn't been any room for him. The road had ended, their journey was over.

Trip couldn't take it anymore. Just seeing her and having to work with her was impossible. He'd had to leave. So he asked for a transfer to _Columbia._

And here he was, working as Chief Engineer on a different starship, without his old friends, with new challenges ahead and a new crew to train.

Trip stared at the console he had been working on. He looked around. His new crew worked at a frantic pace. They gave him strange looks when he gave them commands in a cool, clipped voice. He knew they didn't like their new boss.

He didn't like the new Trip either. But he couldn't help himself. He always had run a tight ship, but because he combined it with an easy-going, happy nature and an interest in his people, his old crew had worked their tails off for him.

Here, he just couldn't muster the energy to be more than the Chief Engineer.

Trip knew T'Pol wasn't too happy either. Judging from the raw anguish he had felt when she shook his hand at his farewell party, she felt as horrible as he did.

Still, he was in the right and she was so wrong, pushing him away and pulling him closer the next minute. She was one confusing Vulcan, with her half-truths and mixed messages. He was better off without her. She hadn't given him any reasons to stay.

He shouldn't really care that she felt as miserable as he was. It served her right.

He should be happy she was gone. He should built a new life without her, so why didn't he?

Why was he failing so completely? There were plenty of other women that would be interested in him, but just the thought of being with someone other than T'Pol made his stomach turn. Trip felt trapped. He spent all of his time alone. His quarters were as empty as when he'd moved in. The cold and sterile room fit his mood.

What added to the hurt of missing T'Pol were those crazy dreams: in the middle of the day, late at night in his bed, T'Pol plagued him with dreams that were so vivid they almost looked real. But even in those figments of his imagination the two of them were arguing.

Trip finished his work, cleaned up his tools and called it a day. Alone he walked to his quarters.

He took a shower and got into bed, hoping T'Pol wouldn't show up in his dreams and knowing it would cut like a knife if she didn't.

* * *

He was in her white space again, the room filled with candles. T'Pol was sitting in front of them, meditating. She turned around to see him standing there. Her eyes widened, her face looked so fragile. Her face held a sorrowful expression that he had seen before in their dreams.

"Trip," she said. Her low voice sounded tired.

"This has gotta stop," he replied. "I can't sleep or work with these dreams."

T'Pol tilted her head, and he could see concern for him in his eyes. "Maybe some neuropressure would help," she suggested softly.

His first response was negative. Neuropressure was what got him in trouble the first place. Then he saw her suggestion for what it was: a peace offering. He was tired of bickering with her, even in dreams. He missed her, their friendship, just being with her. It seemed liked she felt the same.

"Let me go first," he answered, noticing the dark circles around her eyes. "Looks like you need it."

She didn't protest at all, but simply nodded.

Without saying a word, he found himself behind her with his hands on her back. His fingers moved under her silk pajamas top and he pushed a node. T'Pol inhaled deeply, her body lost its rigidness at once. He continued, working down her spine. If he hadn't been aware every minute of the rift between them, it would have seemed like old times.

He could only see the back of her head with her chestnut hair falling forward as his fingers ministered to her back, when she said "You still care." She sounded puzzled. "Thank you for your help."

He pushed hard at one of the nodes and she moaned softly. "Isn't that the other way around? You stopped caring."

Her body tensed in response, in protest to his last words. In his defense he added "You thought that reading a book was more important than me. You're the one who married Koss. There were always other things you cared for, and they weren't me."

"You left." she said, sounding distressed. "You told Phlox that you couldn't handle it anymore." Obviously she had overheard his conversation with Phlox with those sharp ears of hers and drawn the wrong conclusion. Her voice was strained as she continued "You told me that the world didn't revolve around me."

"It doesn't," he told her, flat out denying she still was his world. "Not that it matters. You wanted me gone. It's better this way." Couldn't she see that when you loved someone so deeply as he loved her, you hated seeing her every day and not being able to be with her?

She turned around. Her eyes were so close; he could see the cold pain in her eyes. "I know you're human, but you are my mate. I came back to you, to _Enterprise_, leaving any chance of a normal life on Vulcan. But you wanted distance. You said to leave you alone. You said it yourself: our relationship would not have worked. I couldn't give you what you wanted in a relationship. So I concentrated on leading a life the Vulcan way, alone.

"Did it work?" he asked.

Her eyes saddened. "I can't break my connection with you." Her voice was only a whisper when she added, "Nor do I want to."

Without warning T'Pol's face faded away; he was back in his new quarters on _Columbia_. The comm in his quarters buzzed. He pushed the button and answered, "Tucker here."

"Commander," Captain Hernandez said "We just received a distress call from _Enterprise."_

* * *

He was the luckiest guy in the world. He'd gotten through to her. There was a new road ahead of them. Trip had seen through the clouds of cultural misunderstanding and now he knew: T'Pol was his. He knew it as sure as he knew that he could perform a manual shut-down and restart in less than two minutes. It was good to see her in the flesh instead of just those dreams. He had met her again, shortly after he returned to _Enterprise_ after hanging on a rope between two star ships.

_Love is on a slippery slope  
Barely hangin' on at the end of my rope_

_"_Fancy meeting you here. Intermix pressure?" he had said.

"Fifteen twenty seven." she had answered, without missing a beat.

He couldn't make out much of her state of mind, but she had asked him questions about whether he was adjusting well over at _Columbia_. And when he'd accidently touched her he could sense that old feeling of anguish again.

It made him think. Walking around in his old domain, feeling the gentle hum of the warp core, he realized something. He may have been mad at T'Pol, but he was also confused, lonely, hurting, and longing for her. What had T'Pol said? One by one, her words, taunted him.

_You're my mate_

_You told me to leave you alone_

_I couldn't satisfy what you needed in a relationship _

_I can't break my connection with you, nor do I want to._

If the dreams were real, and he believed so, T'Pol felt as horrible as he did. He smiled. His thoughts went to their time together after _Enterprise_ had returned from the Expanse. They had never spoken of what their relationship meant, but he had loved every minute of being with her, and he was sure she had felt the same. Their relationship hadn't been perfect, but never had he been happier, nor had it ever felt so right to be with someone.

It hadn't been a lie. She loved him. It was so obvious that he was surprised he hadn't seen it before. If she would just admit the dreams were true and that she missed him, they would have a chance. But she had to take the first step.

In the next hours T'Pol didn't say anything of that kind, but she did spend a great deal of her time following him around asking him about any unusual dreams he might had been having.

It amused him to deny it, as it made him grin to see her leave, clearly frustrated. If she wanted to him to come back she would have to say the words.

Everything really got crazy when those green Orion beauties started roaming around and everybody started acting weird. It was up to him and TPol, the old never-failing team, to save the day. They had solved the Orion problem. Only one question remained. "The thing I can't figure out is why I'm immune," he mused aloud.

T'Pol looked at him intensely and said, "That might have something to do with me."

He was puzzled. "You?''

"There's a long-held belief that when a Vulcan mates, there's a shared psychic bond."

The word "mate" triggered a long hidden pain. Whatever T'Pol and he had shared, it was love-making, not just "mating". "We didn't mate!" he called out. Then he realized that she had said more. "Okay, what do you mean by psychic bond?"

She had mentioned it before in those dreams, but seemed terrified by the idea that he might not like it. T'Pol went on to explain what the bond was, and for the first time the dreams made sense. He couldn't figure out now what the consequences would be. But one thing he was sure about. "Guess we proved it again." he said. "That we make a hell of a team."

They had turned a corner in the corridor. It was chill and empty. No other crew member was present. He stepped forward with longer steps than T'Pol, who had to walk quickly to keep up with him. He heard the tapping of her heels on the metallic floor. T'Pol turned to him, seemingly pleased. "We do seem to work well together."

"Even more now we're in each other's head," he teased her, still continuing to walk at the same pace. A small twinge on T'Pol's face suggested that she didn't object to being bonded to him at all, but she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she asked him if he was going back to _Columbia_ and started to point out that there were a number of repairs to be done, and that Kelby lacked the experience.

They passed another row of lights in the metallic-blue colored corridor, when he stopped.

This dancing around each other would get them nowhere.

"Why don't you just say it?" he asked her. T'Pol's eyebrow went up a little and he explained. "That you want me to come back."

"I believe I did," T'Pol answered with a small crack in her voice. For a second she looked down nervously. Trip folded his arms in front of him, demanding she would say more. "I think your presence here would be extremely beneficial to our operations," she added.

He shook his head and smiled in unbelief. He had enough. "No," he said firmly. "That _you_ want me back." T'Pol gave a small sigh and said she didn't understand.

Trip looked away for a second. "My mistake", he said, leaning towards, his face close to her. Then he stepped away. He wasn't going to wait for her.

It worked. "Wait, Trip," she called out to him. He stopped, turned around and waited, holding the expression on his face carefully neutral. Finally she said what he had been hoping to hear since he'd returned to _Enterprise_. "I want you to come back."

He nodded slightly. "Then I'll think about it," he answered and walked away.

"Trip!" Her voice was urgent. She swiftly stepped up to him, gripped him by the back of the neck, and gave him a long, hard kiss.

It was like being connected to a photovoltaic relay; his whole body filled with energy, coming alive. He could feel the brush of her warm, soft skin against his cheek and smelled her spicy, honey-like scent. Her body relaxed, warming up to him.

Fully determined, she kissed him, her soft and warm lips firm on him as if she never wanted to let go. He could sense her deep rooted longing for him, her pain that he had left and her despairing need of him. The message of her kiss was clear: she wanted him back with all her heart.

She opened her mouth for him and she deepened the kiss as their tongues touched. He was overwhelmed with joy and desire. How he had missed her. How she had missed him. But now she was his, back in his life, back in his arms again, bonded with love.

He was home.

If he hadn't thought he was right about his decision to come back to _Enterprise_, he was now.

He needed to tell her. Hardly able to contain a grin, he told T'Pol that he already had decided to come back to _Enterprise._ It was funny to see how T'Pol responded in disbelief. "This is where I belong," he added. He waved his hand in the space between him and T'Pol. "And that thing between us, that's no big deal."

Before she could say anything further he danced away from her, back to where they were heading. "We got a lot of work to do," he said in a singing voice. He was leading their dance now. And by the looks of it, T'Pol didn't mind at all.

Later he stopped by her quarters carrying a tray of food. She opened the door, dressed in her silvery robe. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, her expression showed that she was pleased.

"Dinner, Ma'am", he said, coming in. He placed the food on the table and took one step towards her. Without talking T'Pol fell in his arms and clung to him. He held her close and their lips locked in a kiss that almost took his breath away

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked when they finally stopped kissing.

"I am," she answered, and kissed him again. She then stopped and withdrew. "I think we had better talk. There is much to discuss."

Trip grinned. "We're always better in kissing than talking, but if we want to avoid more bumps on the road, we better start working on it."

T'Pol nodded slowly, deep in thought. Her voice was soft when she said, "I agree that I find it hard to find words and logic in our situation. But I was also uncertain of the outcome of our discussion. I thought you would respond negatively, so I have been avoiding it."

"Ask me, T'Pol," he answered. His fingers followed the outline of her face, her chin, her cheeks, up to her beautiful eyes. "Ask me anything. It's better than keeping me in the dark. You may be surprised by my answers..."

The comm interrupted the moment. It was the captain, ordering T'Pol to come to a staff meeting for a debriefing on the Orion situation. "I will be right there, Captain," she answered.

"I better go with you," he said. "The captain probably wants me to be at the debriefing, too."

"Are you coming back to my quarters afterwards?'' T'Pol asked.

"Sure. Don't want to waste a good dinner," he gave a small nod to the food on the table. He smiled. "Besides, I have plenty of reasons to stay and plenty of things to talk about. Didn't I say we've got lots of work to do?"


	5. Chapter four: An Evening Celebration

**Chapter four: A nightly celebration with water, bread and bourbon**

A/N This chapter takes places five years after the episode Terra Prime, after the end of the Romulan war.

Disclaimer: see prologue.

* * *

He needed her support. He needed her like water in a desert. He felt so tired, so worn out, so beaten by the woman across from him. Trip straightened his back and shoulders and stared at Commander Jameson of Starfleet Internal Affairs. She was a short haired, middle-aged brunette with a plain face without any make-up except reddish lipstick. "You made several objections against actions of the acting captain in the last four months, more than in the months before. Is there any reason for this increase?" she asked.

Would he tell the truth? That he felt so drained by the years of war, by living on adrenaline and fear, trying to perform while people got wounded or died, that when the war ended, he hardly had energy to work on a starship in peace time?

"Focus," the soft voice on T'Pol came in his mind. "Focus. Use logic in your answers. Point out your different circumstances."

"The war is over, Ma'am", Trip replied, causing Jameson to frown in confusion. "Meaning?"

"In war time you have no time to debate with your captain. We were fighting for our lives. We were fighting to save Earth."

"In peace time you also have to follow orders," Jameson remarked.

"Of course," he said. He searched for words. He couldn't just tell her that Jon had isolated himself during the war and after, just like he had in the Xindi mission. An image came to his mind, of Jon telling him and T'Pol that he needed their support. "Yes, but Captain Archer has told us that he needs input from his crew, especially from his second and third in command. So I offer suggestions." Jon had told him this a long time ago, but it still counted for something.

"Commander T'Pol and Captain Archer seemed to be close," Jameson replied. "Does that make you uncomfortable given your past relationship with Commander T'Pol?"

Trip blinked. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Trip would have thought at least Internal Affairs would be aware of the real situation. "Captain Archer is my oldest best friend, a good officer and a fine captain," he told Jameson. "That should answer your question."

To his surprise it did, because Jameson started speaking about the war, how it must have affected him and ended with asking him about Terra Prime. "In my report about the events of Terra Prime it stated that it had a strong impact on you. It's indicated that you showed signs of depression and grief. If you were confronted with a member of Terra Prime on a mission, would your actions be colored by your own experience?''

"Aren't all our actions colored by our experiences?" he interrupted her. He was silent for a moment. "They hurt my family and my friends," he managed to say. "But when it comes to a mission, be sure I will act like the professional Starfleet would want me to be. If I've learned anything in the past years, it's to keep my emotions in check."

Jameson nodded and made a note of his answer. A few more questions and it was over. He shook her hand and walked out the door, straight to the elevator and down to the exit of Headquarters. He was so glad it was over.

He greeted the receptionist, sitting at the desk and left the building. As soon as he was outside, he saw a beautiful woman standing on the pavement. He just had to look at her. She had long, blond hair, bound together with a green shawl. Her face was exquisite; her lips were colored red. She was dressed in a green summer dress with white flowers and on her feet elegant white shoes with a small heel.

And even in this unusual, but very eye pleasing outfit, he recognized her at once. The woman shiftily stepped closer and whispered "Follow me." Then she strolled away, taking a small black suitcase, a plastic bag, and a handbag by the hand.

He waited a few seconds and then he walked in the same direction she had gone. When she turned the corner, he stopped her. "Thank you for being here, TPol," he said.

Very briefly she touched his hands. It gave him a shock. In the years of marriage they had hardly ever displayed any form of affection outside the doors of their quarters. But just the simple warmth of her hand made him feel better, a sign of support, like he had felt during the debriefing with Internal Affairs.

Before his marriage to T'Pol, a year after the events of Terra Prime, he was told by Admiral Black of Starfleet Command that it was in the interest of the Coalition and the relationship between Vulcan and Earth, to keep their relationship low profile. In the years after, it had become harder and harder for him to keep his promise. He didn't want to pretend, he wanted the whole world to know he loved T'Pol and she loved him. Officially they were separated, not that any one of the crew of _Enterprise_ believed that. The crew didn't speak about it either.

TPol contained walking, meanwhile explaining her behavior. "I am sorry for the disguise and my abrupt departure at Headquarters", T'Pol said. "But it was important that nobody knows where we are going."

His eyes followed the lines of her incredible figure that was only emphasized by her summer dress. "Can I say you look lovely, darlin'", he said. "But where are we going?''

"On vacation," T'Pol answered. "It's my observation you need time to rest and relax. But first you must change." She handled him the plastic bag, after which she opened her handbag and gave him a paper coupon and a ticket. "Go to Fifth Street to the cafeteria called _Philip's Plac_e. With this coupon you can order a free soft drink. In the bathroom you can change into other clothes. They are in the bag. Please wear the cap as well. After you change and finish your drink, we will meet at the bus stop at 10th street. I already gave you the bus ticket. Don't be late."

He walked to Fifth Street and found the cafeteria within minutes. When he walked in, the place was crowded. He ordered a coke, gave the consumption ticket to the waitress, and asked her where the bathroom was. The waitress, busy helping the costumers, hardly lay eyes on him, but pointed him quickly in the right direction.

In the plastic bag he found some neatly folded clothes: a pair of his favorite jeans, a shirt, and a sweater. There were also sunglasses and his Florida Gators cap. Trip changed his clothes, drank his coffee and went to 10th street. He couldn't shake the feeling he was going on a secret mission and just the thought of being somewhere else with T'Pol made him feel better.

At 10th street he met T'Pol and stepped on the bus. After 10 minutes she gestured they had to get off and changed to another bus. They ended up in the civilian shuttle pod terminal where they took a shuttle packed with people. T'Pol and he hardly had any chance to communicate. They ended in the crowded shuttle pod terminal of Los Angeles. From there they took a smaller shuttle pod. After a few short stops, they arrived in a town called Barstow, a typical desert town with mountains looming on the horizon. The dry, brownish ground beneath his feet contrasted with yellow grass and green short bushes on the side of the road. They ended up on Main West Street which contains several shops and houses. They also found a restaurant where they had lunch. After finishing their meal, they walked toward May Avenue. There, T'Pol pointed to a garage, almost hidden between other shops. They entered, finding a man in his sixties, with gray hair and wearing blue overalls. He was polishing a car. Trip recognized it at once. It was a red hybrid classic convertible vehicle with sun collectors attached to the rear of the car. She was a thing of beauty.

"We come here to collect our car," T'Pol told the man. "I made reservations yesterday."

After the paper work was done, they placed their suitcase in the back, climbed into the car and drove away.

The road before them was dusty, the surroundings red and orange looking valleys. The wind was playing around his head. Trip was driving the car, next to him sat T'Pol. "Where are we going?" he asked T'Pol again.

T'Pol pulled out a PADD from her purse. "We can go to see many places. It's up to you."

"This is not like you, honey. What gave you the idea?"

"You once told me that driving around in this desert state had been one of your most favorite vacations. You needed rest," she simply explained.

He normally preferred vacations near the beach and the sea. That old vacation had been so special because of the circumstances. But this was special too. He pushed the pedal a little deeper and the car speeded up right away. Trip turned the radio on. He expected to hear country songs about love lost and love found, just like the music he had been listening to on that vacation so many years ago. But it was jazz coming out of the car speakers.

Trip placed his hand on T'Pol's knee and he felt her warmth and the soft fabric of her dress beneath his hand. She turned and looked at him, her eyes warm. A sense of freedom came over him. He was completely away from everything, driving a great car with the most beautiful woman at his side, who wanted to spend time with him alone. Trip pulled the car over and stopped. He leaned over to T'Pol and kissed her. "Thank you," he said. They drove further, passing by a sign telling them that Las Vegas was about 150 miles.

"We can go to Vegas," he said to T'Pol. She objected, pointing out that it had been a long day and it was getting dark soon.

"I don't mind the drive," he said. "Have you ever been to Vegas?''

"No. But Ensign Sato always said she wanted to take me there."

"She did? Why?"

"She believed I could make a fortune."

He laughed. "I bet you make a great poker player."

"That's what she said."

"You know, I always dreamt of going to Vegas and get married in one of those wedding chapels. Those things have been around for centuries, but I still think its fun."

"You've already been married in a Vulcan ceremony," his wife pointed out.

"It's a weird idea. They have those ministers called an Elvis. About 200 years ago he was a famous singer. Vegas has this tradition that the wedding performers dress up like him and get you married," he added, knowing T'Pol would hardly know the cultural background of Vegas.

T'Pol sounded intrigued. "So this Elvis sings at the wedding ceremony? Just like the Vulcan priest did at ours?"

Trip vividly remembered the solemn voice of the Vulcan priest after T'Pol and he had said their vows. It had been one of the most precious memories of his life and nothing could compare to it. "It's not like that, not as beautiful as our wedding." He paused. "Not that I wouldn't mind marrying you all over again, or a thousand times."

He kept on driving and staring in front of him, but he could feel T'Pol studying his face. "Then we should go to Vegas," she said. "If it's important for you."

Trip laughed. "You want to? It's a crazy, illogical idea."

"Please set course to Las Vegas," she replied.

He grinned. "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

"Drive, Mister Tucker, before I changed my mind."

* * *

"_Charles Tucker personal log. This has been a crazy day. This morning I was in SF for a debriefing, but __a couple hours ago I drove to Vegas, seeing the bright lights of the city in the middle of the desert. Took a tour of the town, saw a show, went to several shops, got me a nice piece of jewelry and now I am waiting for an Elvis to show up. There he is."_

Trip saved his entry, and then deleted it, always afraid that someone would find his personal logs and use it against him. It wasn't easy to keep secrets in Starfleet's name. But none of that mattered now. In his pocket he had a ring with an emerald setting and in his hand an application for C. Antony Tucker and T. Kirakkofu for a marriage certificate. He gave it to the man with the fake side burns and the tacky leisure suit. Trip hardly noticed the man, having eyes only for T'Pol standing before him when they exchanged their vows.

"You're my mate," T'Pol whispered, only for him to hear, and she kissed him. Then she picked up her bag and took out some items she had bought in one of the shops. He hadn't been allowed to come with her. He was surprised to see a water bottle, a round bread and a bottle of bourbon. She picked them up one by one and said "My father used to travel to a remote area of our planet. I went with him on one of his journeys. He taught me that on a dangerous trip through the desert you help your fellow travelers. You support each other and share your water and your food: water to quench your thirst, honey bread for strength and what we call fire water for warmth in our body."

After all those years of being married, she still looked somewhat nervous when she continued "I am not good with expressing how glad I am to be bonded to you. Your love and friendship, acceptance and care are my best companion on my journey of life." She extended her two fingers and touched his in unity.

Trip felt tears pricking in his eyes. Breathing slowly he kissed T'Pol on the forehead. "I love you too, darling" He took out the ring and put it on her finger. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly. He took her beautiful face into his hands, seeing her brown green eyes filled with emotion. "To the most beautiful and wonderful wife."

"This is a good moment to drink your bourbon and round things up," Elvis, who was standing in the background, commented. "The next couple is already waiting."

T'Pol poured the bourbon in a glass and took the first sip. She pulled a face and gave it to him. He held the glass high. "To life," Trip toasted. He placed the glass to his lips and felt the burning sensation of the drink down his throat.

Elvis gave them their certificate and turned to his next customers. Trip grabbed T'Pol's hand and together they walked out from the wedding chapel. "Let's find a place to sleep, T'Pol Kirakkofu – daughter of Kirak," he suggested.

They found a nearby hotel, checked in and hurried to the hotel room. Closing the door behind him, he kissed T'Pol. She ended up standing against the wall, kissing him back fiercely.

She stared at him like she wanted to drink in his features. Then her expression changed into a look he had seen for the first time, a long time ago in decon. She looked at him with great desire, like he was the only one who could fulfill the great longing inside. They hardly made it to the bed.

* * *

He woke up, T'Pol's warm body entangled with his. Sunlight came through the windows of the hotel room. T'Pol moved and snuggled against him. He lay still, breathing slowly in and out. He was here, loving this woman next to him, a woman who he had married twice now and who's love he had seen shown in her action in all those years behind them. Trip savored this moment. He was more than happy. He was at peace.


End file.
